


Taichi Nanao's Foolproof Guide to Getting Your Crush to Kiss You: Volume 1

by Esurisne



Series: Taichi Nanao's Foolproof Guide to Getting Your Crush to Kiss You [1]
Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Crushes, Kissing, M/M, Omi oblivious at how his sincerity is extremely flirtatious, Practice Kissing, Taichi suffering but in silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esurisne/pseuds/Esurisne
Summary: Taichi said, “There’s nobody else I’d be more comfortable with, Omi. I swear!”Whatever other machinations were going on in Taichi’s head and heart, that wasn’t anything other than the truth. It seemed to appease Omi’s concern, because he smiled. Completely unrelated, Taichi felt his heart rise into his throat.
Relationships: Fushimi Omi/Nanao Taichi
Series: Taichi Nanao's Foolproof Guide to Getting Your Crush to Kiss You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579828
Comments: 10
Kudos: 162





	Taichi Nanao's Foolproof Guide to Getting Your Crush to Kiss You: Volume 1

If you asked Taichi, he’d claim that he’d already begged half of the Mankai Company to lend him a hand with the trial ahead of him. And if you kept asking, you’d notice that he’d list off the same people he’d supposedly pleaded with – _sometimes_. And if you kept asking after _that,_ maybe you’d even notice that he was getting twitchier and twitchier about it, dodging more and more questions, and refusing to provide more details.

But nobody asked Taichi, because Taichi didn’t tell a single soul what _awful tribulation_ he was going through.

That is, not until he threw himself into his room and found Omi sitting there with wide, surprised eyes at such an explosive entrance.

“Taichi,” Omi said by way of greeting, setting down his textbook for class. Taichi knew exactly which one it was, because he’d leafed through it curiously just the other day. Not that he’d been snooping.

“Omi!” Taichi exclaimed, walking two steps forward, stumbling one more, and then dropping to his knees entirely, the script in his arms spilling out onto the floor with all the anguish of every lamentation he could ever imagine speaking. “ _Omi_.” 

If you asked Omi, he’d explain that he’d known Taichi for long enough to recognize when his distress was genuine and fantastical. And if you kept asking, he’d eventually tell you that he’d supported Taichi through what was likely the worst crisis he’d ever experience in his acting career. And if you kept asking after _that_ , maybe you’d even notice the uncomfortable grimace on Omi’s face, and his unwillingness to let on any more than that.

But nobody asked Omi, because everyone already knew that Omi and Taichi had grown fairly close.

“What’s wrong?” Omi asked, kicking his legs off of his bed and making like he might stand up to join Taichi on the floor. 

So Taichi scrabbled at all the script he’d let fall for dramatic effect, intentionally or otherwise, and then kept it scrunched in his arms as he laid there, sideways, on the floor. Through his purposefully messy hair, he peeked at Omi and Omi’s sympathetic little frown and Omi’s attentive gentle eyes and Omi’s stupid awesome jawline – 

“It’s a long story,” Taichi said miserably.

Omi patted the bed next to him, and Taichi scrambled up and over there to sit beside him.

“Tell me about it,” Omi said, inviting to the end.

“Well, I got a guest role!” Taichi started by saying, with no small amount of excitement. And really, that excitement was _very real_.

“Taichi, that’s great!” Omi brightened at it too, but then studied him a little more closely. “...Then what’s the problem?”

“Well…” 

Taichi hadn’t set out to be deceptive. But he was a guy with very few _real_ tools at his disposal, and he fancied himself a clever opportunist, not that he’d say so – and when the chance arose for a _dream situation_ to arise, well, it wasn’t his fault that everything so naturally skewed towards what he wanted, right? 

Which was why he was staring Omi in the eyes when he said, entreatingly, “I need to practice kissing.”

Omi blinked. 

Then he blinked again. 

“For the role,” he clarified.

“Yes!” Taichi shoved the script at him – and it’s the _real script_ , with real words and real lines and a whole real scene where Taichi would be swept off his feet, and okay, so he would be playing another girl character, but she was capable and cool, so he was fine with that, except – 

“Well, _aha_ , I know how to kiss, _obviously_ ,” he said quickly while Omi read over the scene. “But, y’know, I don’t know…how to _be kissed_ , right? That’s a whole other way of acting right there, totally different!” 

Omi hummed once to signal that he should keep talking.

“So, I really wanna practice that, to make it look as _real_ as I can for the audience! This guest role’s a big one, really, I didn’t think they’d give me one of the main cast. That’s huge _,_ Omi, _huge_. I have to kill it.” 

Omi nodded, still reading, a small furrow between his brows that made Taichi want to plant his hands on both sides of his face and tug with his thumbs to smooth out. He kept running his mouth.

“And the show’s not that far away, and I know we’ve worked under way worse deadlines here! But I—” 

“Taichi.”

Taichi shut his mouth and looked at Omi.

And Omi – of _course_ Omi was looking right back at him with a soft gaze and a softer little quirk to his lips. He righted the papers in his hands and set them aside before leaning in slightly more towards Taichi, his expression serious as he asked, “Do you need my help?” 

Need, not want. Taichi felt a burst of guilt, but the words were already out of his mouth: “Would you? Really?” 

“It’s important to you, right?” Omi said, and Taichi’s eyes stayed rooted on his arms as he started rolling up his sleeves a couple more times. “I don’t mind. Just tell me what you want me to do.” 

All the tension in Taichi’s body fell away in an instant, but it was less thanks to knowing he’d be all set for the kissing scene and more thanks to Omi asking if Taichi wanted him to be the one to help him. Taichi hadn’t even had to bring it up; Omi did it for him. 

…And Omi was still staring at him with the same intense patience. Taichi, mouth dry, swallowed again and blurted, “Yeah! Yeah, okay.” He licked his lips unthinkingly, settled back and forth on the bed like he couldn’t quite figure it out ( _on the bed_ , his traitorous mind supplied, and Taichi flushed hot at it). 

Omi reached out, and Taichi’s whole _self_ jerked upright.

“Whoa,” Omi said, quickly withdrawing. “Hey. Relax. Look.” He reached again and this time Taichi stayed stock-still, tension draining once Omi only rested his hand on his shoulder. “You sure you want me to—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Taichi interrupted, breathless. “Y-yeah, yeah! Sorry. Guess I’m still all in my head about it, haha…” 

“Take your time.” Omi lightly ran his thumb in circles against his shoulder. Taichi felt dizzier and dizzier as he kept on at it, like it wasn’t just circles on his shoulder, like instead it was Omi spinning him around and around. “Your show’s not for a while still, right? We don’t have to do this right now.” 

“We really, really do,” Taichi insisted. Omi slid his hand off his shoulder and Taichi could’ve _yelled_. “I promise I’m okay! Really!” Then, leaning forward with both hands fisted tightly on his knees, Taichi said, “There’s nobody else I’d be more comfortable with, Omi. I swear!”

Whatever other machinations were going on in Taichi’s head and heart, that wasn’t anything other than the truth. It seemed to appease Omi’s concern, because he smiled. Completely unrelated, Taichi felt his heart rise into his throat.

“I trust you, then,” Omi told him, kind and warm and _so Omi_ about it that Taichi couldn’t do anything but remember how badly he wanted this.

Taichi swallowed past his hasty pulse and reached out to take Omi’s shoulder. Omi let him, just like Omi let him sit up on a knee to get closer. Taichi nearly froze again when Omi moved a hand to his nape, almost faltered entirely when Omi put that hand on the back of his head instead. 

“You’re okay,” Omi murmured, and Taichi thought frantically, _yeah, I’m better than okay_.

The last time they’d been this close, Omi had been kneeling with him, pulling him into an embrace – his cheek turned into Taichi’s hair, his breath stirring against Taichi’s ear as he spoke in confidence to him. That moment was stuck on repeat in Taichi’s mind as Omi tugged him closer now, though this time they weren’t stopping with Taichi’s tear-stricken face against Omi’s broad, strong shoulder.

This time, Omi eased Taichi’s face up to his, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, and Taichi squeezed his eyes shut along with him the second before their lips met.

His grip on Omi’s shoulder tightened, his posture tense enough that Omi took a second to pull away, making a gentle correction with his other hand on Taichi’s side, his fingers practically lined up with Taichi’s ribs. Taichi huffed a quick apology, but Omi shook his head and pecked the corner of his mouth, shocking him into total silence.

“Still okay?” Omi prompted lightly afterwards, and Taichi breathed, “ _Uhh_ ,” very convincingly, before leaping back in. 

Omi made a small noise, catching Taichi before they both dropped back against the bed (and really, Taichi’s brain’s logical minority provided, they had no danger of that, Omi was so much stronger than he was). This time, Taichi leaned _into_ him, not just towards him, and Omi kissed him carefully even while Taichi was overwhelmingly eager. Their teeth clicked together and Omi winced, Taichi’s mumbled apology lost against his mouth when he pressed their lips together, seeking a way to make Omi’s skin feel as warm as his did – 

(Which wasn’t at all the point of this if Omi _asked_ , but he didn’t ask what the real point of it was now, did he?)

Omi pet fingers through his hair and somehow that made Taichi lock up again – long enough for Omi to turn his head and laugh lightly. Taichi flashed hot all over with embarrassment, but Omi only gently kissed his slack lips again and said, quiet, “Sorry. I promise I’m not laughing at you.” He stroked Taichi’s hair again. “But you don’t have to prove anything to me.” 

Taichi dropped into a proper sit onto the bed again with a big sigh, scrubbing his hands over his flushed cheeks. Crossing his legs in front of him, he laughed shakily. “Y-yeah! You’re right. This is what I meant when I s-said I have to _be_ kissed. No good at it, am I, ha _ha_ —”

His voice shot up an octave when Omi took his face in both hands and leaned down, nose-to-nose with him. 

“So let me,” Omi murmured, something lower in his voice that tightened Taichi’s chest into a dozen knots of aching _longing_. 

Taichi nodded helplessly in his hands, eyes half-lidded as Omi closed the rest of the little space that remained to kiss him one more time. Taichi clenched his hands into tight fists again to keep himself from tugging, grappling, giving himself away. He didn’t notice when his eyes fell shut, too caught up in the way Omi kissed his lower lip to coax his lips to part, relaxed. He didn’t notice when his shoulders loosened because of the lazy push-and-pull of Omi’s mouth on his, easing his lips to move, too.

And he didn’t notice his own breaths speeding up when Omi’s tongue lightly traced the edge of his bottom lip either, nor did he realize how very much he needed _air_ because of it.

Omi’s thumbs moved in those little, light circles again, this time on either side of his jaw, but Taichi hardly paid attention, busy stealing too-affected breaths between Omi’s pauses. Omi let him, but part of Taichi’s thoughts screamed _he has to know, he has to know_ , paranoid and fraught by the very idea—

Still, Omi kissed him anyway, until Taichi was little more than a puddle of heat and desperation, returning tender kiss for tender kiss. Every time Taichi wanted to press on with the eagerness of someone unpracticed and unused to pacing himself, Omi would tease him back down into his own rhythm with an unbothered series of pecks. One of Omi’s hands made it to the back of his neck somewhere in all of it, his other hand still cupping Taichi’s cheek, and Taichi never, _ever_ wanted to stop, no matter how uncomfortable it got for him.

Omi’s teeth brushed against his lip, surely a mistake, and the sheer, sudden, heart-stoppingly strong _want_ of it shocked Taichi so much that he made a quiet, broken-up noise and caught himself by grabbing Omi’s thigh. 

It seemed to shock Omi too, though whether it was the sound Taichi made or the sudden grip on his leg, Taichi would never know. Omi pulled back with a start, the muscle of his thigh flexing under Taichi’s hand and _oh god, oh god—_

“Ah,” Omi breathed. He cleared his throat, then slowly moved his hands away from Taichi.

Taichi stared at him dumbly. Omi’s lips were slick, the slightest flush creeping across his neck from under his shirt. He seemed apologetic, rueful from the way he glanced away and back to Taichi, and Taichi didn’t know how to tell him that if he said sorry for this, he’d drop to his knees and beg to do it again and again and again. 

“Was that okay?” Taichi said suddenly _,_ anything to break his razor sharp focus on how badly he wanted to fling himself back into Omi’s arms. He yanked his hand off of Omi’s leg like he’d been burned, as if he’d only just remembered he was holding onto him there.

Better yet, he shifted to get his legs in front of him, still staring, now hopefully, at Omi.

“Okay?” Omi cleared his throat a second time. “Yeah. Yeah, you’ve got this. Just…relax, on stage, alright? Don’t let your nerves get to you.” 

Taichi pumped his fist, unable to help the sincere enthusiasm. “Yesss! If you say so, it’s gotta be true.”

“And if you’re still nervous, just imagine that it’s me you’re kissing up there.”

Taichi felt those words like lightning striking through him, immediately bursting into even _more_ nervous laughter. “Y-you got it! Thanks Omi!”

He fled, then sped back over for his forgotten script, then fled again, because the only other option was running back into Omi’s firm chest and, oh no, that thigh flex was going to _haunt him forever._

Not that anyone would ask.

**Author's Note:**

> Bad dog


End file.
